


Searching, on Moulted Wings (Do You Need a Ride?)

by yozra



Series: The Black Cat [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bartender!Asahi, Biker! and Photographer!Aone, Break Up, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up, hints of supernatural happenings, rarepairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 20:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20516237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yozra/pseuds/yozra
Summary: Asahi was afraid of many thingsAone turned out not to be one of them.





	Searching, on Moulted Wings (Do You Need a Ride?)

Asahi hated his—   
  
No, hated was too extreme.   
  
Asahi harboured a slight – a strong – no, a _somewhat _strong disinclination towards his early shift on Wednesdays.  
  
Firstly, when he arrived at the bar facing the thick slab that was the door – raised panels engraved with cryptic glyphs and cats in various outdoor sceneries – and releasing the lock with a small click, he always had to tug hard at the handle to unstick the wood. Because of this, the bell rang violently, jolting him to attention as its echoes were swallowed by the darkness – which he did his best not to look into, instead staring determinedly at the stairs as he slapped blindly along the inside wall to eventually hit the light switch. The lights themselves never blinked immediately on, instead brightening creepingly, creepily, deliberately drawing it out while Asahi tapped his fingers quick against the doorframe – still looking at those stairs – and muttering a count to twenty under his breath while he waited for them to alight fully (though this was also too dim for him to feel completely at ease). He then sneaked a peek into the room, breathing the first of many sighs of relief at not finding a ghost or spirit staring back at him, and finally stepped in, closing the door behind him with a quiet thunk.  
  
The bar itself was a tomb, a rectangular container further narrowed by the shelves, the counter, and the ceiling looming uncomfortably low at barely a hand span off the top of his head, and it buried him alive for a good part of the night. Glass bottles lined the shelves in bumpy rows, packed into every available space, and they contained the precious life force of the bar, stolen night after night by customers through carefully measured pours and a whimsical generous dash – he was certain it was because of this that the workers were cursed to reside in limbo, a penalty for being unable to permanently stopple the steady leaks, doomed to enviously watch the customers make their escape, rejuvenated and sanguine.  
  
And then there was Morion. He had to constantly remind himself to avoid looking in the direction of the cat as well, to ignore the flickering shadows created by the light above her head that taunted him as he set down chairs.  
  
“That’s not working on me,” he said loudly, aligning the last chair straight. He made his way around to behind the counter and one of the bags stored under the cupboards, pulling out a piece of dried fish.  
  
“I’m going to give you this” — he waved the fish at the little black cat — “so stop.”   
  
There was a pause from both sides. Then the flickering picked up pace and ground Asahi’s resolve to stand firm.   
  
“...Please?”  
  
The light stopped dancing.  
  
He breathed a second sigh of relief and exchanged offerings, nibbling on the old bit of fish.   
  
Once, during the first few days of his trial period at the bar, he had forgotten his bag and returned to find Kuroo exchanging the dried fish on the plate. Asahi thought it was sweet but didn’t understand the point, disbelieving the rumours until he was put in charge of the early shift, where the light flashed violently making him shriek and jump, and he half threw the fish to placate the cat (it worked). From that moment on he was a firm believer.  
  
However, he had spent the rest of that evening debating whether he should quit working at the bar – but when Kuroo had come up to him at closing time, praising Asahi on the night’s work and talking about how he would be relying on him, Asahi couldn’t form the words to say no. So he ploughed on, became used to the bar and its unusuality and fast forward five years—  
  
Asahi jumped to the bell ringing. He could never get used to that when he was alone in the room.  
  
“Morning,” Kuroo said, appearing from behind the door.   
  
The first thing that grabbed Asahi’s attention was the black hair sticking out wilder than usual; it was in such a mess it almost made him think it had to be set deliberately, a cutting-edge trend in hair styles.   
  
He must have been staring because Kuroo was then adding, “Something on my face?”  
  
Asahi startled and firmly shook his head. “Oh – no, no, I just thought your hair was more” – he flicked another gaze up – “expressive than usual.”  
  
Kuroo pulled at his hair. “Ah, yeah. I can’t set my hair right at Semi’s.”  
  
(Bokuto once said Kuroo’s hair was like that because he slept with two pillows pressed to either side of his head, but Asahi was pretty sure that was a joke.)  
  
At the mention of Semi’s name, he was reminded of the recent gossip amongst the bartenders, with opinions split on why Kuroo and Semi were working out.   
  
Bokuto and Moniwa were strongly in camp ‘Morion had a change of heart’. Iwaizumi called it a lucky break. Ushijima reasoned that it was unrealistic to believe they wouldn’t meet anyone while working here.   
  
Kuroo shrugged it off, saying there were no guarantees that it would last.  
  
(No one believed this theory. It was Morion they were talking about, that cat didn’t do things by halves.)  
  
As for Asahi, he had no clue, but whatever the reason he was happy for Kuroo, who worked the hardest, spent the longest amount of time with the customers; if he believed anything, it was that Kuroo was being rewarded for running the bar for so long.  
  
“You and Semi seem to be going strong. I’m happy for you two.”  
  
“We’re just taking it day by day,” Kuroo said, waving Asahi’s remark back at him as he walked past. Asahi would have believed the nonchalant air if he hadn’t caught the grin tugging at the corner of Kuroo’s lips – it brought a smile to Asahi's own face. He feigned ignorance, returning to their preparations for the evening.  
  
It was widely recognised by those working in the bar and izakaya industry that after the weekend, Wednesday was the next busiest day, used as a midweek pick-me-up. The Black Cat was no different, though unlike the Friday atmosphere shot with excitement and potential, or the unhurried vibes of Saturday, Wednesday was a mixture of relief of having survived halfway and concern over whether they would be able to overcome the struggle of the two that followed – basically, it was a mirror of Asahi’s overall mental state, which was probably why he preferred this day over any other in the week.  
  
Asahi glanced at the clock and found a couple of hours had passed since opening at five thirty-six, then returned to arranging cheeses on a plate for Kuroo’s customer while Kuroo mixed the drink; there was a distant sound of the bell in the background.  
  
He saw Kuroo come up to him in the periphery of his vision. “Almost done—”   
  
An elbow nudged him in the ribs. He looked up at Kuroo, who nodded to over Asahi’s shoulder, and Asahi threw a glance to see the subject of interest.  
  
The man standing by the third stool from the door was, for lack of a better word, massive. Asahi always thought he and the other staff members were tall, but this man was taller, his white hair threatening to brush against the ceiling.  
  
Then there was the stare that weakened Asahi’s already-fragile nerves.  
  
Putting appearances aside, the man was pointing. More specifically, he was pointing at Asahi.  
  
Asahi blinked several times. “...Huh?”  
  
“I think you’re up,” Kuroo murmured to him, a touch too amused.  
  
Asahi took a deep breath. Exhaled, took another, wondering why this man was specifically asking for him when Moniwa was already standing there waiting to serve him. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that,” Asahi replied, nodding frantically, more to reassure himself.  
  
The customer lowered his arm and settled himself into his seat, seemingly mistaking the affirmation for Asahi agreeing to being the designated server of the evening.  
  
Asahi trepped up to where Moniwa waited; close up, the man’s eyes were intense pinpoints. If the man had walked up to him on the street Asahi would run across the road, regardless of whether there were cars speeding by.  
  
“Er…”  
  
“Drink,” he heard Moniwa whisper as he walked away.  
  
“Drink,” Asahi repeated. With a shake of his head, he said, “What would you like. To drink. Or eat. Sir?”  
  
The man’s eyes travelled over the menu, and he finally said, “Silent Seven.”  
  
“Silent… Seven?”  
  
Asahi knew of the Silent Third, an old cocktail with Scotch whisky, but Seven?  
  
“Could you just… wait one moment please,” he said, rushing over to Kuroo and Moniwa who had moved into the far corner murmuring between themselves.  
  
“What’s a Silent Seven?” Asahi whispered as he came to a stop.  
  
“That’s specific,” Kuroo said, impressed.  
  
“Just replace the Scotch with an Old Number Seven,” Moniwa easily answered. “It’s an in-joke by the brand.”  
  
“Right. Gotcha. Thanks.”   
  
Asahi rushed back again, the man still in the same position wearing the same expression. “Sorry about that. I’ll make one for you right away.”  
  
With his mind focused on mixing the drink – grabbing the bottles, and then a lemon, slicing it in half – Asahi could latch onto the confidence of knowing what he was doing, giving him a small amount of freedom to begin a conversation.  
  
“What is it you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”  
  
When Asahi served the customers, he always went by the most common route of knocking at the front door of a person’s private abode, waiting patiently for it to open, offering familiarity and security until being invited in for a chat, and if all went well, coaxing out the problem, instead of: ramming head first knocking everything – including the person – over (Bokuto), already being in the kitchen making tea like a neighbour with the spare key (Moniwa), throwing a rock at the window to try and get their attention only to accidentally smash, strike and stun (Ushijima), tearing open the door and throwing the person out for questioning (Iwaizumi), and using whatever optimal means to generate the greatest provocation and amusement possible (Kuroo).   
  
“Only if you feel like talking,” he added at the silence. “There’s no pressure at all to answer.”  
  
Movement made Asahi lift up his head to watch the man disappear under the counter and return back up with a magazine in hand. He turned each page with care until stopping, and turned the magazine around for Asahi to see.  
  
The right was a page of text, the left a photograph of a monkey sitting atop a cushion of leaves staring wistfully off to the side, no differently from how a high school student might, over to the other side of a classroom at a person they wished to interact as closely (and more intimately than) their friends surrounding their table were doing.  
  
Maybe longing was universal.  
  
The man pointed to the bottom corner with a tiny box of white text; it was a profile of the photographer – name, birthday, mention of their other works.  
  
“Aone… san?” Asahi looked up. “You took this? You’re a photographer?”  
  
The man named Aone gave a nod and was about to close the magazine.  
  
“Wait—” Asahi stopped shaking the drink to reach out – and quickly withdrew his hand, realising he was overstepping and his hands weren’t clean. “I mean – can I take a proper look after I finish making this?”  
  
Aone raised his eyebrows a fraction and nodded twice.  
  
Asahi poured and placed the drink in front of Aone, and briefly left his spot to wash and thoroughly dry his hands before returning to take the magazine in exchange. It was a nature magazine focusing on different areas of Japan, and he flipped back a page to see other images he had taken – birds resting in a row on a branch, a snake curling between rocks at the edge of a brook.  
  
Asahi glanced up at the man who was taking a sip of his drink; how was someone so large able to take close-ups of wildlife without scaring them off?  
  
“Thank you,” he said, pushing the magazine back to him. “I don’t know anything about photography, but I think you really capture the spirit of the natural world.”  
  
Aone regarded him carefully as he lowered his glass, and Asahi grew increasingly hot and bothered – he tried to laugh it off. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about.”  
  
No reply. Instead Aone reached under the counter again and brought up an expensive-looking black bag, which he unzipped to pull out a camera. He began fiddling with the buttons, then pushed the camera screen-side to Asahi, a photograph displayed ready.  
  
Asahi didn’t dare take it. “Are you – are you sure? I don’t want to break it—”  
  
Aone gave an insistent nod, one which Asahi felt he shouldn’t refuse, so he carefully took the camera – gripping it extra tight when Aone let go and the full weight of the machine was entrusted in his hands.  
  
Asahi looked through the photos, made comments on his observations while receiving varying degrees of nods for replies, which he slowly began to distinguish; once as a general yes, twice in agreement, a hard nod, a quick bob, and then he started to learn the lines on his forehead and between his brows and at the corners of his eyes which added depth to his emotions.  
  
By the end of their one-sided conversation, camera returned into the bag, glass emptied, a note and coins left on the counter, Asahi couldn’t remember why he had been so scared of the man.  
  
“Have a safe journey home, Aone-san—”  
  
“Aone.”  
  
Asahi smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes; there was no point to this exchange of names. “All right… Aone. I’m Asahi. Have a good rest of the evening.”  
  
Aone bowed and marched out of the bar.  
  
“He was interesting,” Moniwa said as he walked up. “He seemed to be really enjoying himself.”  
  
Aone hadn’t smiled once – but Asahi was inclined to agree.

* * * * * * * * * *

As with the other workers (except Kuroo, who worked the full six days) Asahi was on shift for two fixed nights, Wednesdays and Fridays, with the occasional Tuesday which was a free-for-all decided mainly through rotation. This left three to four consecutive days spare to do as he wanted. His salary provided enough to live fairly comfortably in his one bedroom apartment east across Sumida River, leaving room to take on something extra.  
  
That something extra was travelling.  
  
This weekend he decided to venture all the way to the north-western coast, crawling along on the local trains, hopping off to stretch his legs and find a spot popular with the locals for a bite to eat, or visit a tourist attraction.  
  
On the last evening of his travels before heading back to Tokyo the next morning, he stood atop a mountain now famous for being the exact height as that of Skytree, the chill evening breeze pulling strands out from his loosely tied hair and whipping them across his face as he overlooked the ocean; the flaming ball was lowering itself slowly to rest, radiating enthusiasm and optimism for the one to follow by soaking the sky in orange.  
  
_“You can’t stay cooped up in one place – there’s a whole world out there to explore!”_  
  
Asahi wished he could say the desire to explore was the reason he travelled.  
  
It took Yuu’s presence for Asahi to start a new life in Tokyo – a miracle in itself when Asahi had never visited anywhere outside of his hometown, except for compulsory school or family outings.  
  
And then, it took Yuu’s absence for Asahi to shift gears and thrust himself into the unknown. He started locally, taking up a job at the bar without knowing a single thing about alcohol, let alone mixing alcohol, and talking with people who were as broken as him. Funnily, speaking about other customers’ love lives helped to push aside memories and emotions of his own. But naturally, shouldering other people’s emotions came with a price and he fast realised he was being buried under.  
  
So he creeped outwards; first around the streets where he lived, the surprise nooks between stations, buildings disguised as other buildings and hiding in plain sight. Gradually he expanded his territory – Kanto, Honshu, the main islands and also remote. Every week for five years he travelled across the country until it became a case of choosing where to go depending on the week’s mood or progression.  
  
Asahi inhaled deeply, the coarse sea air grating the passages to his lungs.  
  
If he were to reveal the real reason for travelling, he would say it was to seek out shards of his shattered heart by doing what he had recoiled from in the hope that he would be able to find them, piece by piece, slotting them together until it was completed – cracked and chipped along the lines, but whole.  
  
But all he could find so far was an echo of what had passed.  
  
The sea split under the sun’s weight, created a golden path across the ocean which – as it touched the horizon – teased with the false impression that the bright light was accessible to anyone brave enough to step forward, fast enough to dash along the deceptively long run. He wondered if he were to reach the end he would be able to snatch up the first missing piece from its flaming hand as a prize.  
  
He watched for ten minutes until the sun pulled the watery sheet over its head, the night sweeping away all remnants of colour, leaving a blank slate ready for the following day.

* * * * * * * * * *

On Wednesday, before Asahi could even form the first word of greeting when the door opened, Kuroo asked, “Did you bring back any dried fish?”  
  
And about half an hour later, he experienced the same again with Moniwa, who asked, “How was Niigata? It’s supposed to be famous for seaweed – you didn’t happen to bring any back with you, did you?”  
  
Asahi apologised both times, watching their faces fall at the open box of assorted rice donuts on the counter.  
  
Compared to the previous week, the bar was quiet and gave Asahi stretches of time to catch up on clearing away glasses, and to recall his encounter with the photographer. Thinking back now, Aone hadn’t mentioned anything about his past (he had hardly mentioned anything at all – Asahi could probably count the number of words spoken on one hand); the man certainly didn’t look like the kind of person to be affected even after a relationship went pear-shaped.  
  
Then again, Asahi wasn’t one to talk with the countless number of times everyone had assumed the worst about him from looks alone. He retracted his last thought with a mental apology.  
  
The bell rang in answer to his thoughts and Asahi looked up – felt his fingers loosen around the glass and tightened it at the last second, almost afraid he would snap the handle.  
  
“Oh no—”  
  
Asahi looked to the other side of the room in horror.  
  
Half the light flickered; the cat winked.  
  
Asahi didn’t think the coincidence with Kuroo and ‘The Man Who Visited Twice (and more)’ would be making its way around, least of all to him.  
  
Which meant – Asahi turned back to find Aone in front of him, dropping his bags onto the floor and settling into the seat.  
  
“H-hold on, just – just one moment,” Asahi blurted and rushed to Kuroo who was busying himself with realigning labels of bottles that already looked straightened.  
  
“Kuroo—”  
  
“Azumane, keeping a customer waiting lacks professionalism,” Kuroo said without turning, and all too calmly.  
  
“He’s here again!” Asahi glanced back at Aone who was staring in his direction. He put on a smile and waved; Aone gave a nod in return.  
  
“That’s what customers do if they like the place. They return.”  
  
Asahi turned back to Kuroo. “Not at this bar! Why is this happening? What did you do?”  
  
“Hey, I resent that.” Kuroo finally looked at him, expression serious but for the light dancing in his eyes. “If you’re wanting to blame someone, blame Morion.”  
  
Asahi looked over his shoulder a second time at the cat in question, the light above its head dimming dangerously low.  
  
“I’m not blaming Morion,” Asahi hissed back at him. “She’ll kill me! I can’t do this – I’m not mentally or emotionally prepared!”  
  
“He might not even be here for you.”  
  
The panic screeched to a stop, giving Asahi a moment’s peace to repeat the sentence in his head.  
  
“...That’s true.”  
  
“But the fact that you think he is probably means he’s here for you.”  
  
At the green light of Kuroo’s words, his panic sped up so far ahead his racing pulse was having difficulties keeping up.  
  
Asahi groaned quietly. “Why do you always dangle hope only to snatch it away?”  
  
Kuroo heaved a sigh, as though he was using up energy of his whole being to deal with Asahi’s breakdown, and turned to face him.  
  
“I see a person in dire need of assistance so let me do my managerial and comradely duties.” Kuroo slapped his hands firmly down on Asahi’s shoulders. “Listen carefully, Azumane, this is my one and only advice to you.”  
  
Azumane nodded, hanging off his every word.  
  
“Go and do your job.”  
  
Kuroo turned him around and shoved him back in the direction where Aone waited.  
  
As Asahi shuffled to his fated position, Kuroo continued to confirm his growing suspicions; Morion may have been the familiar of the bar, but Kuroo had to be the devil who ran it.  
  
“Same as last week?” Asahi asked nervously. He remembered he needed to add a smile at the end.  
  
If Aone noticed the strain he didn’t show it, only giving a neutral nod in reply.  
  
Asahi did as the previous week, pulling out the bottles, the lemon, the glass.  
  
“So, uh…” He racked his brains, tried to remember their topic of conversation. “Will you be going anywhere this week?”  
  
Another dive under the counter and then coming back up, Aone placed a book titled ‘Nagano’ in front of him, tags sticking out from the edges marking pages.  
  
“That’s a nice prefecture to visit,” Asahi’s comment came easily; talk of travel smoothed his nerves. “I haven’t been there in a while.”  
  
He continued to follow last week’s template, exchanging drink for book, Aone sipping while Asahi flipped, pausing to point out a place he had visited or wanted to visit in the future. Once again Aone listened to his talk until his glass was empty, and he paid with a grateful nod, a farewell bow, and left.  
  
“You two looked friendly,” Moniwa said this time as he came up.  
  
Asahi looked to him; Moniwa’s smile was unassuming and he relaxed. “I guess so? He probably thinks I talk too much.”  
  
“Or,” Kuroo said, joining in, “he might have been hanging off your every word.”  
  
Another sound of the bell and Asahi was saved from having to think too deeply about the meaning of those words.  
  
Nagano. Maybe that would be a good destination for this week.

* * * * * * * * * *

Walking along the dusky road, Nagano was turning out to be a poor choice of destination for this week.  
  
Asahi only had himself and his overly-ambitious scheduling to blame, thinking he could squeeze in the shrine hidden within the heart of a forest a forty-minute walk from the main road. He realised as he made his way back that darkness was falling quickly, and when he had finally cleared the forest and checked the times at the bus stop, he found the next bus wouldn’t be arriving for another hour and a half. He was supposed to check-in at the ryokan for six, and, as luck would have it, the battery on his phone had died earlier in the afternoon because he hadn’t plugged the charger into the socket.  
  
His choices were to wait or walk; at this rate it would be faster to walk. With a determined nod, he crossed the road and began his trip.  
  
A car zoomed past, too fast, too close, and he halted; they were definitely breaking the speed limit. He waited until the sound of the engine faded and was replaced with crickets chirping before he began walking again.  
  
Five minutes in, he wiped sweat off his forehead, having picked up his pace at the night sky eating away at the glowing colours of the day.  
  
As he mentally fought with himself between convincing himself he was going to get run over and berating himself for having five years travelling experience and checking off all the rookie mistakes, a distant rumble of a motorbike could be heard coming from behind.   
  
He stepped as close to the side as was physically possible without risk of slipping off the edge, and stopped to wait for it to pass.  
  
It rode past at a comfortable pace, equivalent to a gentle jog in walking terms, the vehicle a huge thing that reminded him of the ones the police rode when guarding important people in their black cars as they made their way around cities.  
  
It began to slow as it made its way towards the curve – a little early, Asahi thought, considering the curve was up further ahead. The left winker began to blink and the bike pulled over, then purred to a stop.  
  
Maybe his luck had turned and it really was an officer who stopped to assist him.  
  
_Or it could be a lead-up to a scene in a horror film._  
  
The person dismounted their bike and – it had to be a man because Asahi wasn’t sure which he was intimidated by more, the man or the bike. He must be even taller than Asahi. He was definitely a bigger build than him.  
  
_Oh god, it _is_ a horror film._  
  
Asahi’s feet were rooted to the ground as the man steadily marched up, removing his helmet along the way.  
  
“Wait – you’re…” Asahi leaned forward, squinting to better trace the familiar outline, the white hair. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Aone stopped before him and blinked back, as if waiting for Asahi to answer the same question.  
  
“I’m making my way to the ryokan I’m supposed to be staying at tonight.”  
  
For a few seconds Aone stood unmoving, and then he turned his back to him, striding purposefully back to his bike.  
  
“...Huh?”  
  
Was Aone leaving him stranded on the road? No, Asahi shouldn’t assume the worst. Maybe he was going to call someone, someone who could pick him up by car instead of—  
  
Aone returned with a black bundle in his hands, which he held out to Asahi. A simple half-helmet attached with goggles, and a black jacket.   
  
“...What’s this?”  
  
Aone stared at him as if to say it was as it looked.  
  
“...You’re giving me a ride?”  
  
A curt nod.  
  
Asahi leaned to the side to look past Aone at the bike that may as well have been a small car. A small car with zero protection if anything were to happen. It looked absolutely terrifying.  
  
But was it more terrifying than continuing to walk down this road by himself in the dark?  
  
“I’ve never ridden a motorbike before,” Asahi admitted quietly. He wasn’t sure he said that as a confession or deterrent to stop Aone from giving him a lift.  
  
A shake of the head – it didn’t matter.  
  
“O-okay. In that case… thank you. I’ll, uh, gladly take up your offer.”  
  
As he followed Aone, Asahi pulled on the jacket – a perfect fit, though a little snug around the arms – and scrambled to get his helmet on. He was still fumbling with the straps when he came up to the bike, and startled at Aone suddenly holding out his hands to Asahi’s face, pausing just short of touching him, requesting permission.  
  
“Uh... if you could,” Asahi said, abandoning the endeavour with a drop of his hands.  
  
Aone began threading the straps. “Which ryokan.”  
  
“Oh, you can just drop me off by the main shrine," Asahi said, watching Aone give a final tug and a nod of approval. “I’ll make my way to the ryokan from there—”  
  
Aone glanced up; his stare meant he wouldn’t budge without a name, so Asahi relented and dug into his bag, pulling out printouts. “This one here…”  
  
Aone took the papers off him, held them up to the light as he scanned and then handed them back. Asahi shoved the papers back in and noticed the hand still held out.  
  
“Oh, right – thank you,” Asahi said with a bow of his head and handed his bag over for Aone to store in the top box.  
  
Aone pulled his helmet back on, lifting up the visor, and settled himself into the seat starting up the engine with a great rumble that had Asahi taking a step back. He shifted the weight of his feet so the bike was balanced straight, then turned his head to Asahi.   
  
Asahi took a deep breath. He could do this, he thought, using Aone’s shoulder to push himself off the ground, swinging his leg over the monster, dropping onto the seat to feel its growl reverberating through his body.  
  
“Lean with the bike, not against.” Aone snapped his visor down, then revved the engine.   
  
Asahi didn’t know where to grab so hurriedly wrapped his arms around Aone’s waist as the bike pulled away.   
  
He was sure he was going to die. If not from the bike crashing then from the lack of air, having to fight for each breath as cold air slammed into his face. He turned his face the side which was slightly better but not enough to make a real difference, then hunched behind Aone like he was hiding behind a shield – that was more effective.  
  
It also took everything for him to resist the urge to pull away from the road each time they rounded a bend (and the road was a constant twisting of left and right, with the occasional long loop going round and round). Asahi decided the best thing to do was to close his eyes and go with the movement of the bike.  
  
_“How are you so scared when you’re such a big guy?! You should feel undefeatable! Unstoppable! Feared! Fearless!”_  
  
The bike gradually straightened from the hard lean to the left, and Asahi cracked open an eye in time to see the wall of trees either side clear; the distant silhouette of the mountains seemed to glow with the last dabs of yellow before being quenched by the blue-black of night, but it was the vast sky above with thousands of glittering grains that had Asahi staring up in awe. He had never seen so many stars gathered in one place, a magnet attracting them from all across the island. He lowered his gaze to the horizon, lights sparkling at the bottom of the valley which, at this distance, looked like landing sites of fallen stars.  
  
He wished he could ask Aone to stop and pull over so he could capture the sight, though he wasn’t sure how he would go about it without distracting him from his riding – but the feeling soon disappeared.   
  
In fact, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to stop. His travels were always slow – on foot, on trains that stopped and started, on busses that got caught up in traffic – and he felt suspended in time, between past and future, plodding along to get somewhere, and once that destination was reached found it to be only a temporary stop to another destination until he was back at the bar and had to start over.  
  
The bike tore through the scenery, giving him no time to dwell on a single thought. He weaved between memories and dreams, veering at emotions before they could take hold, and when he blinked he found himself back in the real world with a completely different view, and the cycle started again.   
  
Asahi may have been ready to admit it wasn’t so scary.  
  
That was, until he was back to leaning left along a tight curve, and he closed his eyes, trying not to think about how the bike was going to topple onto the floor under the weight of two largely-built men.  
  
No, it was still scary.  
  
When the stars had disappeared behind the glow from artificial lights, the trees replaced by buildings, the bike slowed and turned into a car park, pulling into an empty space to a stop; Aone turned off the engine.  
  
Asahi could still hear the rumble in his ears, feel it shuddering through his bones as he pried his arms from around Aone. His heart pounded, his head was dizzy from the sudden rush of too much oxygen.  
  
He climbed off the bike, staggered when his feet hit the hard ground, legs weak and shaky.  
  
“That was – I thought I was going to die,” Asahi admitted.  
  
Aone raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Not because you were a bad rider! You were a very safe rider. I felt very safe. And comfortable. The seat was very comfortable with the cushion and – sorry if I clung on too tight.” Asahi forced a laugh. “They should put handles on backseats of bikes too, huh?”  
  
Aone pointed; Asahi followed his finger to the handles just behind Asahi’s seat.  
  
“There’re handles at the back?”  
  
Aone furrowed his brows looking torn on how to reply and decided on a hesitant nod, pushing himself off the bike. He moved to open the top box and pulled out two rucksacks – one of them Asahi’s – and his camera bag.  
  
“Thanks,” Asahi said, pulling off his helmet and jacket and trading them for his bag, then watched Aone begin to lock up.  
  
“Wait – why are you – you’re staying here too?”  
  
A nod, and Aone started walking towards the ryokan leaving Asahi to stare after him.  
  
“Well, that’s a… coincidence…”  
  
Asahi wondered exactly how far the cat’s intervention reached. Was it still effective this far outside of the bar? He was going to have to question Kuroo on exactly how the bar worked.  
  
They didn’t have any more opportunities to exchange words. By the time Asahi was checking in Aone was being led down the corridor, and as Asahi entered the small Japanese room he found the large, low table set up – chopsticks on pale-orange washi and a candle stove to the side – ready for him to dine privately instead of communally in a restaurant. Usually he appreciated the privacy. For some reason tonight, he was disappointed.  
  
The meals no longer surprised him, their long list of courses brought in at carefully-timed intervals and arranged in patterns on small dishes – local delicacies, freshly caught fish, tenderised meat all paired with seasonal vegetables, and finally fruit for dessert – helpfully washed down with a glass of beer or, like tonight when he felt particularly adventurous, a bottle of sake. It left him utterly stuffed and, as the table was being cleared, made him believe he would never need to eat again – until of course the buffet the following morning where his appetite would magically reappear.  
  
He leaned back on the floor chair and checked the time – just past nine-thirty. He decided to wait out another hour for the baths, learning long ago that it was less likely to be crowded.  
  
He wondered what Aone would be doing right now. Probably checking through the day’s photographs.  
  
Could he catch him if he went now?  
  
No, that would be awkward, waiting around for a person he barely knew so they could bathe together. He would wait until breakfast – he was almost guaranteed to see him then.  
  
He flicked through his plans for the following day, checked the clock again to find it was ten-forty and headed for the baths – it was as he predicted, an old man was changing into his yukata and there was no one else in sight. Asahi showered to wash off the day’s dust and sweat before deciding to soak in the bath outside.  
  
This was one of the best parts of the day, heat from the hot spring water seeping into his body to soothe away his aches and strains, trickles from the constantly running stream drowning out his thoughts as he stared up at the darkness. He briefly recalled the day’s events – especially the surprise encounter at the end. Going on a motorbike wasn’t one of the things he thought he would ever get the chance to do, and despite the leans and lack of protection he found he didn’t hate the experience. It would take some getting used to, but in time he could probably come to enjoy the ride.  
  
His questioning hum echoed loudly over the water – why was he thinking like he would be riding again?  
  
The door rattled and squeaked open. Asahi glanced over – his eyes widened at seeing Aone stepping out.  
  
He quickly looked away. Then questioned why he was feeling embarrassed when he had seen (and had been unaffected by) countless naked men.  
  
“Hello again,” Asahi said to the water. He counted to five and risked a glance to find Aone sitting in the water a few metres away. “Nice place, isn’t it?”  
  
There was a soft grunt of agreement.  
  
“I wanted to thank you again for earlier. I’d probably still be walking if you hadn’t shown up.”  
  
Another glance found Aone with his eyes closed.  
  
_Ah, he doesn’t want to be disturbed._  
  
Asahi could sympathise. He sank lower into the water and rested his head against the stone wall.  
  
“Why did you decide to come here?”  
  
Asahi checked again – Aone still had his eyes closed. He felt he could speak a little closer to the truth when he wasn’t being scrutinised.  
  
“When I was flipping through your guidebook I thought I hadn’t been in a while,” Asahi said slowly. “I travel when I’m not working. Actually, it’s all I do when I’m not working. Visiting new places. Trying new things. Pushing myself to venture into the unknown.”  
  
_“It’s not that I don’t get scared venturing into the unknown. But following what you fear’s a fail-safe sign that what lies ahead is the thing you need most in your life. I can’t let fear stop me from seizing the best the world has to offer!”_  
  
Asahi clenched his jaw and rubbed a hand over his face. He wasn’t going to do this now.  
  
“I definitely managed that with the bike today,” Asahi continued. “Do you always travel on the bike?”  
  
Another quiet grunt, though drawn out, like the thought brought contentment.  
  
“I don’t drive so I always need to plan my routes with public transport. Travelling on the bike must give you more freedom.”  
  
Did he sound jealous of that? But the thought of travelling on a whim was too adventurous for him. Planning gave reinforcement, grounded him in predictability.  
  
Asahi felt the air shift with the chill breeze brushing his face.  
  
“Once you taste freedom it’s difficult to let go.”   
  
Aone’s voice was strangely dampened. Asahi wondered if the reason lay in the spare set of gear stored in the bike.  
  
“I can see why people become addicted,” Asahi said, aiming to keep his tone light. He pushed himself up out of the water. “Anyway, I’ve been sitting here long enough, I think I better turn in. I’ll leave you in peace to enjoy your evening.”  
  
He didn’t look at Aone as he waded through the water to the steps or when he padded over to the door. Had they been separated by a counter, a drink on one side and a book on the other, Asahi may have prodded a few more times, knowing his profession would prevent him from excavating too deep. However without that barrier he sensed the questions would upturn one confession after another until one would eventually hit and crack open the casket, and Asahi wasn’t sure he was ready yet to discover what was stored inside.

During breakfast the next day, Asahi only had a chance to nod to Aone in greeting having been ushered to a table that was already designated to him. He packed up and checked out with expectant glances around the lobby, but – no luck.

He contained the sigh and stepped out of the building, seeing Aone hunched over and inspecting the bike.  
  
“Are you off now?” Asahi called to him.   
  
Aone turned and gave a nod.  
  
“Safe travels then. And thank you again for last night.”  
  
Aone gave a nod – at his bike.  
  
“A ride?” Asahi considered going on the bike again. Then reconsidered. Not because he was afraid of riding – no that was a lie, he was afraid of riding, though not so afraid he couldn’t go on it again. But that wasn’t the main reason. “I already booked tickets for today and I don’t want to keep you from going where you need to go.”  
  
Aone held his stare until Asahi shifted under its pressure. He shook off the feeling with a nervous laugh. “Next time?”  
  
Aone raised his eyebrows a fraction, and with another nod – determined, like he would hold him to the offer – put on his helmet, concealing his face.  
  
Asahi waved as Aone turned off onto the road and disappeared out of sight, the sound of his motorbike fading into the distance, and breathed a sigh of – he couldn’t tell what, but relief didn’t slot itself into the sentence quite right.  
  
_“Why don’t you try—”_  
  
Asahi hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and turned off in the opposite direction.

* * * * * * * * * *

Every Wednesday for the following three weeks, Aone came without fail to the bar. Each time Asahi asked where he had been and Aone brought out a magazine, a travel guide, his camera, all of which Asahi looked through after passing over the drink. Afterwards he would retell his own adventures to Aone; he didn’t know if Aone appreciated the stories at first, but once he was finished Aone would come out with a comment or question, giving proof of his interest.  
  
On the fourth Wednesday, Asahi checked the time to find it was nearing ten o’clock and there was still no sign of Aone.  
  
“Where’s your regular?” Kuroo asked.  
  
“He’s probably off travelling somewhere,” Asahi said with a strained smile.  
  
He was still pondering over the reason for his absence just before midnight, the bar having quietened to just the three of them.   
  
Maybe he had accepted a job offer at short notice and had headed off somewhere. Up north maybe. Or the western tip.  
  
Or, as the bell rang and Aone appeared through the door, he had just been busy.  
  
Aone came as usual to sit before Asahi.  
  
“Silent Third.”  
  
Asahi blinked in surprise. “Oh? Why the change?”  
  
Aone shook his head – just because.  
  
Asahi grabbed the Scotch whisky instead of Tennessee. As he made the drink, Aone pushed forward a small booklet.  
  
“Sticking close to home this time?” Asahi asked, reading the title ‘Boso Peninsula’, the next prefecture over.  
  
Aone opened the booklet, as always taking care not to even make a crease along the page, and paused at one of the marked pages; he tapped the photo of a sunrise at the easternmost-tip of Japan.  
  
“You’re going there?”  
  
Aone gave a nod.   
  
“Come with me.”  
  
Asahi stopped shaking. He wasn’t sure he heard right over the clatter and sloshes. “...What?”  
  
Aone remained silent, indicating that he knew very well Asahi had heard.  
  
Asahi laughed, as shaky as his hand gripping the shaker, insides rattling quietly. “On the bike? I don’t know about that—”  
  
“This is next time.”  
  
It took a moment for him to recall his own words spoken a month before. It wasn’t as though he had said it out of politeness, but at the same time the thought of going on the bike—  
  
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”  
  
It was the first time Aone became truly intimidating, his look verging on a glare, accusing Asahi of lying.  
  
He didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of that look. “It’s also too short notice to go this weekend.”  
  
That was a downright lie. There were times Asahi booked tickets and places to stay on the Friday night (early Saturday morning) after he returned home from work, just because he couldn’t decide where he wanted to go.  
  
Aone’s instincts must have picked this up because his glower darkened.  
  
“Why?” Asahi demanded, louder than usual. “Why are you asking?”  
  
His gaze shifted off from Asahi to the side.  
  
“Travelling on the bike makes me feel uneasy.” He knew it was the truth, yet a cold sweat broke out like he was telling a lie.  
  
Their eyes met; Aone’s reflected pain.  
  
“Why should I go? Why do you want me to go?”  
  
Aone continued to muzzle himself.  
  
“Why won’t you say anything?!”  
  
Silence from Aone, heavy breathing from himself.  
  
“Moniwa, help me take the rubbish out,” Kuroo’s voice broke the silence, and Asahi felt him brush past.   
  
He waited until the ringing from the door quietened before he spoke again.  
  
“Do you do this with other people or is it just me? And if it’s just me, why? Why do you come back here, week after week, telling me where you went and what you did?”  
  
Asahi put the shaker down with a firm thud.  
  
“Is it me? What about me? Tell me what part of me you’re drawn to that made you point at me on the first night, that had you sitting down in the seat in front of me when the bar was empty, or had Moniwa or Kuroo dragging me away from someone when it wasn’t?”  
  
Asahi dropped his head, gripping the edge of the counter as he waited for a sentence. A single word.  
  
“_Say something!_”  
  
He raised his head. Aone’s expression had shifted again, thoughtful and still.  
  
“Why do you need to hear you’re admired?”  
  
The question burst his anger, leaving confusion.  
  
“I’m not – what? I’m not asking you to admire me. What part of what I just said – I hate it – that’s the last thing I want to hear!”  
  
When he was with Yuu, when Yuu would give him all the reasons why Asahi was amazing, Asahi would deny it – he would feel embarrassed hearing the compliments, would groan at him to stop – half-hearted, laughing, in good humour, until—  
  
_“Stop telling me what I should be able to do, Yuu! I’m not as brave or as strong or as amazing as you think I am – I’m hardly anything compared to you!”_  
  
_“That’s because you don’t believe you are, or you don’t believe you can be. I’m telling you, you—”_  
  
_“—can’t! I can’t, I know I can’t. And I don’t want to be the one holding you back because of that.”_  
  
_“...What’re you saying, Asahi?”_  
  
_“I don’t want to be responsible for you regretting what you didn’t do with your life because of me.”_  
  
_“I’ve never regretted anything about being with you—”_  
  
_“Not now, but what about in a few years’ time? Ten years? Twenty? When you’re eighty? A hundred?”_  
  
_“Being with me should be the last thing you should be afraid of! I’ve never said anything to make you think I would leave you—”_  
  
_“But that’s just it, you say it all the time! The shoulds, the coulds, the what I don’t dos!”_  
  
_“I never meant it like that! Are you telling me that’s what you hear when I say those things?”_  
  
_“Yes, Yuu, that’s what I hear. That’s what I think – deep down, in your subconscious – that’s what you really want to say. And that’s why we can’t do this anymore.”_  
  
_“Can’t do what? Spell it out for me. I don’t want to get it wrong.”_  
  
_“I can’t be with someone who’s always pressuring me to do the impossible. And you shouldn’t have to be with someone who can’t give you everything you want—”_  
  
_“I have everything I want in you!”_  
  
_“__...__”_  
  
_“...I thought I had everything I want in you. But now I know you don’t trust me and – I can’t be with someone who doesn’t – who can’t – who won’t trust me, Asahi.”_  
  
Yuu always shouted and made a big fuss, his voice loud and stamping out everyone else’s, but that was the first time he had spoken softly, almost inaudibly.   
  
Asahi wanted to take back everything he had said. But anger had wound too tight around his fists and jaw – around his eyes, blindfolding him from what he should be seeing, which was not Yuu being angry or defensive, but him hurt and crying out for Asahi to stop pushing him away.  
  
“I’m not asking for admiration,” Asahi repeated, his voice brittle.  
  
Aone watched. Waited.  
  
Asahi had never wanted to hear how great he was as a person. How amazing he was at something, how he had so many advantages over everyone else. It just pushed him further into the corner because he was aware of how he was the opposite of everything Yuu claimed him to be.  
  
“I broke up with him because I didn’t want that!”  
  
Stare – blink, stare.  
  
Asahi knew he had pulled his own heart out, threw it at the back of the striding figure and felt it shatter outside as the door slammed shut, and when he opened that door again, Yuu had disappeared, and his heart along with him.   
  
Asahi clenched his hands into fists. Aone was wrong.  
  
“What you’re suggesting – it would mean I pushed him away for no reason. But I had a reason, Aone, I broke up with him because he deserved better! He deserved someone who could give him everything he wanted! Give him more!”  
  
Had Asahi mistrusted Yuu? Yuu of all people, who gave one hundred percent of himself, who always spoke everything on his mind? How much of a contradiction did that make Asahi, to want to hear someone tell him how great he was while disbelieving, denying, despising every word that was said?   
  
“I trusted him. I did.”  
  
He looked down at his hands, knuckles white, shaking, and he couldn’t make them stop.  
  
A hand reached out – hovered – then covered his right. Warm. Reassuring.  
  
Asahi looked up at Aone, just long enough to see the complicated look on his face, like his heart was cracking but he was doing everything to keep it from falling apart.  
  
“I trusted him...”  
  
His vision blurred – he blinked – and looking down to find small splatters marking the counter.  
  
“...Didn’t I?”

Asahi wiped the damp towel over his face and glanced into the mirror over the sink to see his red-eyed and drab appearance staring back at him.  
  
He looked away.  
  
He didn’t know how long he had been crying. How long he had hung his head with tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping off his chin, how long Aone held him until Asahi uncurled his fingers and withdrew his hand as Aone pulled his away. Wordlessly he had left the counter – unmanned, which if Kuroo found out would lead him to all kinds of trouble, but that had been the last thing on his mind. The only thing that mattered was to remove his pathetic self from the room.  
  
Aone couldn’t have any idea as to what he was talking about. Asahi had just let emotions loose and rampant, slammed them onto him without a single explanation.  
  
He gave his face another wipe, took a moment to confirm that the waterworks had been tightened. He stepped out of the toilets, hovered before the doorway for a few moments, then flipped the counter up.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Asahi said, returning to his position in front of Aone. Though he wanted to believe Aone wouldn’t be looking at him with pity, he didn’t dare look. “I didn’t mean to lash out.”  
  
Asahi stared at the shaker. The ice would be melting, diluting the drink – he would need to throw it away.  
  
“The man I was with meant everything to me. I was afraid of losing him, and it was that fear that drove him away. He used to say fear was the greatest indicator of what needed overcoming the most. Then what does it mean when I gave up before I even tried?”  
  
He had been given a chance and he had cowered, proving he didn’t trust Yuu to stick it out with him to the end.  
  
“Next time, you try.”  
  
Asahi raised his head.  
  
Aone had wiped his face clear of emotions, a solid wall that hid away clues forcing Asahi to think for himself.  
  
It was too late with Yuu. Even if Yuu walked into the bar right now and stood before him, Asahi had broken that which should have been unbreakable – Yuu’s faith. It could never be mended.  
  
But if he were to try with someone else – no, he would fear repeating the same mistake. It was easier to take the lone route in the dark while others passed him by.  
  
Unless… someone came to a stop before him, blocked his path, forced him onto a bike and rode hard, too fast for him to jump off, too terrifying for him to do anything except cling on and trust they were heading in the right direction, and – at the first sign of Asahi’s emerging confidence reflected in the side mirror – make a quick pit stop, long enough for Asahi to find and pick up the first missing piece before riding off again.   
  
Was he allowed? Could he be given another chance if he promised to be stronger?  
  
He looked to the side, at the black cat watching him break down before her eyes. For once the light didn’t flicker, and she didn’t come alive.  
  
“It’s funny how you hardly say anything, yet it feels like you gave me a whole speech,” Asahi said, lifting up his head and standing tall for the first time this evening. “Thank you.”  
  
A shake of the head – the gratitude was unnecessary.  
  
“I don’t know about this week,” Asahi said with a frown. “I think I need to sort through my feelings. But… if you still want to, maybe you can ask again next Wednesday.”  
  
A raise of eyebrows, a blink of surprise – a firm nod.   
  
Asahi smiled. “I can make you another drink—”  
  
With another shake of his head Aone pushed himself off the stool. He was about to return the book into his bag when he paused and held it out.  
  
Asahi was ready to refuse, but his hand was already reaching out, grabbing the edge, labels tickling his palm.  
  
As he stared down at the book and saw the movement towards the door, he deliberated.   
  
_If not now, when?_  
  
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Aone. About your spare gear.”  
  
Aone froze.  
  
It was as he thought. Asahi formed and amended his question so it would come out the kindest way possible—  
  
“I couldn’t throw it out.”  
  
Asahi watched to see Aone turned and face him, eyes to the floor acknowledging he had been caught red handed.   
  
Maybe there wasn’t just one heart made of glass, shattered and scattered and leaving a void.  
  
“I understand. It took me time as well.”  
  
Conflict flashed across Aone’s face, asking himself whether now was the time to follow Asahi’s example and bare his raw emotions.  
  
“You don’t have to tell me—” Asahi said quickly, stopping himself from adding the ‘right now’, feeling the two words were too heavy for an already leaden conversation. “But if – if you want some help, I might…” He chewed on his lip. “I might have an idea.”  
  
Aone looked up, glistening eyes hopeful.

* * * * * * * * * *

At two in the morning, the bell rang out, announcing the late arrival of a customer.  
  
“We’re clo – oh – hey, Aone.”  
  
At Kuroo addressing the customer by name, Asahi looked up from washing plates to find Aone in his bike gear, with only the strip with his eyes, eyebrows and the bridge of his nose visible; a travel bag hung from his hand.  
  
Asahi called, “I’ll be with you in a second—”  
  
“I will do the rest,” Ushijima said, coming up to him.  
  
“Ushijima, you don’t have to—”  
  
“It would be rude to keep your partner waiting.”  
  
The plate in his hand clattered into the metal sink and Asahi shook his head – and his hands – hard in denial. “No, Ushijima, he’s not – we’re not – we’re just – _he’s_ just—”  
  
“You are not making any sense.”  
  
“I don’t know about that, Ushijima, I think it’s pretty clear what he’s trying to say,” Kuroo came up and pushed the bag he had taken off Aone onto Asahi’s chest. “Go get changed.”  
  
Stammering apologies, Asahi backed away, bumped then fumbled with the counter and made his escape into the restroom.  
  
It took some time, but eventually he was standing in full gear. The padded leather trousers were a perfect length and the bike jacket fit over his shirt with enough room for movement. In contrast, the leather boots pinched his feet and the gloves were stiff and unwieldy as he clenched and opened his hands – with regular use both would soften over time. He tucked the motorcycle helmet under his arm – not a half face but full so he could actually breathe and also gave him the pretence he was invincible.  
  
As soon as he stepped back into the bar, Kuroo wolf-whistled. “You’re looking fine, Azumane.”  
  
Ushijima gave a firm nod. “You look like a member of a motorcycle gang.”  
  
Asahi laughed weakly, knowing very well that from Ushijima it was meant as a compliment. “Thanks, Ushijima,” he said over Kuroo’s snickers. “You too, Kuroo.”  
  
“So where specifically are you two love birds going so late at night?”  
  
Asahi held back the urge to groan and wished he had put his helmet back on to hide the growing blush he could feel spreading across his face. “The eastern tip of Japan... in time to see the sunrise.”  
  
“A suitable setting for a first date,” Ushijima said.  
  
Asahi turned to Aone. “I think I’m ready to leave now.”  
  
Aone gave an erratic nod.  
  
“Ride safely, Aone, I need my bartender back in one piece—” Asahi heard before the door shut.  
  
The bike was parked just outside the steps and Asahi stared at the monster that would be entrusted with his life.  
  
Had it grown since the last time?  
  
Aone settled himself into his seat, turning on the engine, balancing the machine between his legs, and when he stilled, Asahi took that as a cue to tug the helmet over his head and push away any loose strands of hair – the last thing he needed was a single stray hair tickling his face. He used Aone as leverage to pull himself up and over, and dropped heavily into his seat.  
  
Aone turned his head a fraction.  
  
Asahi took a deep breath – nodded. “I’m ready. I can do this.” He paused. “How fast are we going again?”  
  
“Full speed,” Aone said and snapped his visor down.  
  
“...How fast is that?”  
  
Aone faced the front and revved the engine; he gradually pulled away onto the road.  
  
“Wait – we’re not going on the motorway are we? What’s the speed limit there? You know, there’s no rush to go today, we can stop off somewhere else and go tomorrow instead – Aone? _Aone—!_”  
  
Asahi also snapped his visor down and instinctively grabbed onto Aone, his heart racing along with his ride as the dotted lights began to streak.  
  
It was just another Friday adventure, just four days before he was back at the bar in his ‘graveyard’ shift serving drinks and listening to customers’ sorrows. But as Asahi leaned to the right and clutched on extra tight, he believed this time would be different. This time, there would be a piece of his heart waiting for him at dawn’s end.


End file.
